


Discovery

by Tarlan



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-07
Updated: 2004-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-19 02:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What really happened in Existence?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Fight Club 'Finish the Fight' Challenge.

Skinner wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, gun hanging loosely from his fingers. After all this time he was finally free of the hand that wielded the palm pilot and yet, as he gazed across the room into the shocked face of Fox Mulder, he wondered whether the price had been too high. With trembling fingers he replaced the gun in its holster.

Mulder's eyes never left the fallen body of his ex-partner, and Skinner could read the confusion and devastation in those bright hazel eyes as Mulder wondered why Alex had wanted to kill him. Skinner had no answer for him, could only say that this was not the first time Alex had asked Skinner to kill him, though last time in the underground parking lot, he had presented it as a choice--Mulder or Scully's child--and he and Mulder had both known instantly that it was a clone rather than the real Alex Krycek.

This time, in this musty old room in a cheap hotel outside of Baltimore, Skinner believed it was the real Krycek--and so did Mulder.

Mulder's gun dropped to the floor with a thud, falling from lifeless fingers, and then he shuffled across the room like a man who had aged fifty years in the space of fifty seconds. He fell to his knees beside their fallen nemesis, a trembling hand reaching out, and a single finger trailed down the rapidly cooling cheek.

As he watched, Skinner could see Mulder's chest start to heave, dragging in short, shallow breaths as if he was slowly suffocating, completely opposite to the indifference he had shown that last time. His mouth was working; words half-formed and discarded without sound. Then he froze, a terrible clarity coming to his eyes at the full realization of what lay before him. Mulder spoke a single word, so quietly, like a small, frightened child calling for his momma.

"Alex?"

Skinner moved forward, dragging Mulder back when the distraught man grabbed hold of the deathly still figure, shaking Krycek violently as if it would bring him back from the dead.

"Mulder! Mulder. He's dead. Let him be. He's dead."

The ashen face filled with anger, and Mulder turned on Skinner, the normally soft voice rough with emotion.

"You bastard. Why? Why did you kill him?"

"He was trying to kill you. I saved your life." And my own, he thought resentfully. "I had to do it." Skinner shook Mulder hard. "I had to do it," he reiterated.

Skinner looked deep into the hazel eyes and realised, with shock, the one thing he had never considered in all these years, that Mulder had been in love with Alex Krycek. From the look on Mulder's face it was apparent that, until this moment, Mulder had no idea either and yet all the signs had been there from the very beginning, cunningly concealed behind other emotions.

Everyone had betrayed Mulder at some point in the past, even Scully, but he had never remonstrated with any of them over that betrayal. He had willingly moved on each time, picking up the friendship or relationship from where it had left off - with everyone except Alex Krycek. His hatred of Krycek had bordered on psychotic, gradually mellowing over the years but still held on a fine hair-trigger. No one, not even Spender, could bring Mulder's temper to boiling point with a single glance: no one except Krycek.

Someone had once told Skinner that indifference was the flip side of love. Hate implied a strong emotional attachment to someone, and so hate was actually a twisted form of love rather than an absence of love.

Was this why you hated him so much... because you loved him?

The answer to his question was staring back at him, the hazel eyes laying bare the true depth of Mulder's feelings for Alex Krycek. The walls Mulder had built, subconsciously, to protect himself from further betrayal from the man he loved had begun to crumble, unable to stand before the devastating loss.

"God, Mulder. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Anger turned to cold fury, and Mulder gave Skinner a vicious shove backwards, the fever-bright light in his eyes dimming just as quickly until they became lifeless.

"I don't need your pity. Get out."

Skinner had never seen this side of Mulder. He had witnessed the intensity of his hatred for Krycek, fearing for Mulder's sanity on occasion, but what he saw now was even more frightening. Mulder had suffered a great deal in his life, had witnessed so much cruelty and destruction, had seen his hopes and dreams ripped away and yet, he had always bounced back. Despite everything he had endured, he had been the eternal optimist, accepting the cruel hand fate had dealt with the strongest belief that, with the next hand, he would be the winner.

This time it was different. Skinner could feel the heaviness in the air, could see a lack of emotion on Mulder's face that went further than skin deep. His eyes were empty, as if the last of his incredible will had drained away with Krycek's life. Every instinct in Skinner screamed at him to stay, to restrain Mulder.

"Scully needs..."

"Get out."

The flat monotone was barely more than a whisper. Skinner swallowed hard and nodded, heart heavy as he walked away. He turned on the threshold of the room, as if to take a last look, watching Mulder drop back down beside Krycek to gather the lifeless body into his arms, crushing Alex tightly to his chest as a low keening wail of grief filled the room.

What have I done?

He went back over the whole scene in his head, trying to figure out where it all went so wrong, trying to see what he could have done differently. Instead, all he could see was the accusation - and then the emptiness - in those eyes.

He turned away once more, stepping out into the corridor, oblivious to the sound of running feet. Doggett raced towards him, gun at the ready, eyes wide with purpose, skidding to a halt in front of him, eyes flicking towards the room Skinner had vacated.

"Where's Mulder?"

"In there."

"And Krycek?"

"Krycek's dead."

Doggett's face lost its intensity, his gun arm falling limply to his side, as he seemed to collapse in upon himself. He breathed a sigh of relief, and grinned.

"Thank God."

With a snarl, Skinner grabbed Doggett and shoved him up against the corridor wall, forearm crushing Doggett's windpipe, his own emotions finally unraveling as his mind wrapped itself around this tragedy of Shakespearean complexity and depth. There was a man lying dead in that room, killed by his hand and, despite everything that had happened between them, he had respected Alex Krycek, maybe even admired him a little. And there was another man in there who had just come to realize how important Krycek had been in his quest for the truth, not as a tool, but as a reason to keep on going, to keep on searching when all hope seemed lost. No one, and especially not John Doggett, had the right to rejoice in this tragedy.

"No..ot Kry.. Another clo..."

The garbled words pierced through his rage and he loosened the hold he had on Doggett.

"What?"

"Not Krycek. Clone. It's another clone."

Skinner shoved away from Doggett, reeling from yet another shock, while Doggett rubbed at his sore throat and coughed weakly.

"How do you know?"

"Because the real Krycek just showed up downstairs. Went frantic when we heard gunshots. I had to restrain him before I could come up here."

"Mulder."

Skinner charged back into the room. His eyes widened at the sight of Mulder still seated on the ground, the clone's body held against his chest with one arm. He leaped the distance between the door and the grief-stricken man, knocking Mulder backwards, the body of the clone dropping to the floor with a thud. The gun Mulder had aimed at his own temple went flying from his hand, crashing to the floor, skittering along until it came to a halt beneath the windowsill.

"Bastard!"

Mulder started pummeling Skinner in a frenzy of flaying fists and kicking feet and Skinner fought hard to subdue him, eternally grateful when Doggett grabbed Mulder in an arm-lock and dragged the grief-maddened man away. He groped for his glasses, replacing them with difficulty as his hands were shaking so hard, then partially removed them when he realised one lens was a web of spider-cracks. Skinner wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked down, unsurprised by the streaks of red blood, though he was only just starting to feel the sting of the cut lip.

He grabbed Mulder's face in both his hands, forcing Mulder to look at him.

"It's not Alex, Mulder. It's not Alex."

The words were getting through but instead of joy, the eyes filled with hatred and disbelief, and then they widened in even greater disbelief at something behind Skinner. Mulder's limbs lost their tension, arms and legs stilling.

"Alex?"

Skinner whipped his head around, catching sight of the figure standing in the doorway. He let go of Mulder and moved aside, motioning for Doggett to release Mulder too.

The Alex Krycek who was standing at the threshold was a mess; his face battered and bruised, his body leaning as if favoring one side, his one arm drawn across his abdomen. Krycek expelled a sharp breath; one of relief, and Skinner saw a reflection of Mulder's love in the wide-spaced, soft green eyes as all of Krycek's attention became focused on Fox Mulder.

Mulder walked unsteadily towards Krycek, stopping when he was just beyond arms' reach, head tilting as if he was attempting to assess if this was the real Alex Krycek or not. He must have seen something that gave him the proof he needed for, suddenly, Krycek was wrapped in his arms. Those green eyes widened in stunned surprise but then seemed to soften and close as his own arm reached around Mulder, his head falling onto Mulder's shoulder.

****

Epilogue:

The house was quiet save for the whispered words passing between two men who had gone beyond enemy and friend, finding something within each other that had been lacking in their own lives. Eventually they grew silent, the exhaustion of the harrowing day finally catching up with them, bringing them to the edge of sleep.

Alex lay quietly snuggled up against the lean athletic frame of his new lover, his head upon Mulder's shoulder, his one arm thrown casually over Mulder's torso. Mulder's fingers were toying with the short strands of his hair, brushing occasionally across the tip of his ear. So gentle. So different from the caress of a fist that he had almost become accustomed to over the last few years. He preferred this though.

Their lovemaking had been slow, through necessity as much as through a desire to make their first time memorable. Both men were aching from the bruises they had gathered that day: Mulder from those he gained through his fight with Skinner, and Alex from those he received during his capture and subsequent escape from what was left of the Consortium.

He shuddered as he remembered that terrible moment when the first clone had stepped out from the deep shadows in the parking lot. The momentary shock had given the Consortium henchmen enough time to grab him, and he had been shoved into the backseat of the dark sedan before he could even begin to fight back. His attempt to get away had ended with one of the henchmen throwing a body punch that sent pain radiating through him. He was lucky the rib had merely been bruised rather than cracked or broken, though it still hurt, especially when he took too deep a breath. Although the blow subdued Alex, the thugs decided to shorten the odds against him making another escape attempt by beating him into submission. They rained blows upon him, bloodying his nose and blackening his eye before landing a hit to his midriff that expelled all the air from his body, severely winding him so he could hardly draw breath.

However, they had misjudged his desperation to keep Fox Mulder safe, and though it took two more days, his second escape bid had been successful. They thought they had subdued him, and he had not allowed them to believe otherwise. He had taken advantage of a traffic snarl-up to fight his way out of the car transferring him to a new location, quickly disappearing between the five lanes of motionless vehicles. He had taken a great risk by crawling beneath one truck praying it would not move at an inopportune moment, crushing him beneath its wheels, and then he had slid down the embankment to the opposite lane of the freeway, ruthlessly separating one driver from his car.

Alex tightened his grip around Mulder. Despite all the risks he had taken he had been too late, arriving in time to hear the gunshots coming from above. In hindsight he could understand Doggett's lack of trust in him although, at the time, he had been so frantic that Doggett had no choice but to try and restrain him. It was fortunate that, in the heat of the moment, Doggett had forgotten Alex had only one real arm, snapping the handcuff around the false left arm before placing the other cuff around the radiator pipe. It had not taken Alex long to release the straps holding the prosthesis.

The look of love on Mulder's face, when he realised the true Alex Krycek was standing before him, was something Alex had always dreamed of seeing, but never really believed would happen. When he found himself held in those strong arms, the soft voice whispering words of endearment, his stunned surprise had melted away.

After all these years of hoping, he had been granted his heart's desire, barely noticing the way Skinner had edged them aside as he and Doggett removed the impostor's body. The door had closed behind them, leaving Alex and Mulder still locked in each other's arms.

Alex's thoughts moved forward in time, to earlier this evening when the simple touches and light caresses had brought so much pleasure. He had never imagined that Mulder would be such an attentive and generous lover, having been swayed by his own prejudices. The Mulder he thought he knew, the one he had fallen in love with despite his apparent shortcomings, would have sought his own pleasure first. However, the Mulder lying beside him had been so gentle and considerate, with hands, mouth and tongue worshiping every part of his body.

He smiled, no longer understanding his reasoning for that former belief.

He recalled how gentle Mulder had been as he helped him strip off his clothes, how he had placed light kisses on every bruise and cut. He remembered the feel of those sharp teeth latching onto one nipple, hard enough to send the blood racing to his groin but not enough to cause any discomfort. The other nipple was rolled between a strong thumb and forefinger, teased mercilessly though never crossing the line from pleasure into pain.

Mulder had turned around, straddling his body on hands and knees, and Alex moaned as his body reacted to the echoes of memory, the feel of that hot mouth upon his hardened flesh, tongue sliding from base to tip, dipping into the slit and flicking across the sensitive glans.

His own mouth had been as busy, his hand massaging the tight sac while he took Mulder's cock as deep as he could, sucking hard on the flared head. He had felt Mulder's murmurs of appreciation vibrating along his own shaft, and had wondered if his own moans of pleasure felt as good to Mulder.

He began to salivate as he recalled the bittersweet fluid that had filled his mouth. He had swallowed eagerly, wanting to taste every droplet and yet grateful that Mulder had retained a modicum of control, even at the moment of release, to ensure he was not hurt. His own release had been electrifying, fueled as much by his ever-expanding love for this man as by his passion.

He moaned softly, hugging Mulder tighter, reveling in the increased pressure as Mulder's arms tightened their hold on him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

In another room, a tiny wail went up and Alex smiled against Mulder's neck. Everything was at it should be. The resistance would be able to use Scully's precious child to save the whole planet, though, at this moment, the fate of the planet held little importance to him. Tonight he was quite literally holding something far more precious.

His smile widened, and he placed a soft kiss against the warm flesh of the man he loved, warmed by the knowledge that his love was returned in full measure.

THE END

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AUTHOR'S NOTE: My thanks to Karen-Leigh for doing such a fine beta'ing on this story for me at such short notice.


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